


Oh, God

by ShortInsomniac98



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Comedy, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Sex, Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 00:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortInsomniac98/pseuds/ShortInsomniac98
Summary: After Armageddon, Crowley and Aziraphale reconvene at Crowley's flat, and after 6,000 years of pining, eagerly head for the bedroom. When Crowley lets a certain little phrase slip, however, they become anxious. Can God convince them She's cool with it without actually showing up to tell them to their faces?





	Oh, God

The door crashed open, and Crowley and Aziraphale soon followed it, connected at the—well, at everything, really. They stayed there a moment, kissing hungrily, hands wandering eagerly over faces, arms, chests, Aziraphale’s body pressed between Crowley and Crowley's bedroom door. Crowley’s hands were at his neck then, fumbling to get the knot of his bowtie undone. Aziraphale undid it for him and tossed it to the floor before backing Crowley over to the bed and pushing him gently into a seated position.

“You’re sure about this, dear?” he asked, coming to stand between his legs.

Crowley smiled. “Absolutely, if you are.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but leaned in to kiss him once more, and let Crowley take his hand and pull him into the bed with him. Six thousand years gone by, and finally—_finally_—here they were. It took everything in Aziraphale to keep his hands from shaking as he caressed Crowley’s cheek, everything to keep his breathing even close to normal as Crowley rolled them over and straddled his hips, rocking his own against them as he leaned down to kiss his neck.

Crowley undid the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt and nearly jumped out of his skin when the angel sat up to shrug it off.

“Sorry about that,” Aziraphale said, laughing quietly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“’S alright,” Crowley said. “Just nervous is all. Can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Me either,” Aziraphale breathed. He touched Crowley’s cheek once more as he looked into his eyes, his expression softening. “But I’m glad.”

“Me, too,” Crowley said.

* * *

“_Oh_,” Crowley moaned, holding tightly to Aziraphale’s shoulders, one hand buried in his hair. “Oh, fuck. _Yessss_. _Right there_.”

His back arched slightly and he dug his head back into the pillows. He was almost there. If he was being completely honest with himself, though, he’d been “almost there” since they started, but now his will was fading, and there was only so much more he could take before he couldn’t continue on pretending he wasn’t about to come undone.

“_Oh, God_,” he breathed.

** _The Almighty was sat at Her desk in Her office in Heaven, quietly writing, but upon that single utterance, She looked up from the notebook She had been writing in and set Her pen down. She had heard…something. Something that, well, She had been quite used to hearing, almost since the beginning of time. People had uttered Her name in prayer and in vain. This, though, was a rare voice. It had certainly called out to Her before, but never like this._ **

** _She tuned Her ears to the voice and listened closer. There was the sound of heavy breathing, not just from one person, but two, and a soft moan of pleasure. She was just about ready to let the connection go, to give whoever it was some privacy, deeming it just another false alarm, when She realized She recognized the voice._ **

“_Oh, God, yesss_,” Crowley sighed, his hips rising to meet Aziraphale’s, and then, realizing what he’d said, closed his mouth and became very still. “Angel,” he said softly, “hold on a moment.”

** _“Wait, no,” She said, closing the book in front of Her and sitting up a bit straighter._ **

Aziraphale stopped and looked down at Crowley, his eyes wide with fear. He’d heard it, too, obviously, and was forming exactly the same thought Crowley had.

“You don’t think She…” Aziraphale said, his voice trailing off.

** _“No, it’s fine!”_ **

“I don’t know,” Crowley said flatly.

“If She did…”

** _“I don’t care!” She cried, to no avail. They couldn’t hear Her, though She could hear everything they were saying._ **

“Right, I don’t know what could, er, you know,” Crowley murmured. “I mean…”

“Right,” said Aziraphale, and he pulled out, rolling over to lie beside Crowley.

Both of them were staring straight ahead at the ceiling, completely silent, completely still.

“I think I’m gonna just,” Crowley said after what felt like an eternity, and he got up.

He stepped back into his trousers and pulled his shirt on.

** _“Oh…Me!” She almost shouted. “What’s he doing that for? I know I didn’t make them that dense. Six thousand years, all for this.”_ **

** _She sighed heavily and went back to Her writing._ **

“Where are you going?” Aziraphale asked as he sat up, pulling the duvet up modestly.

“Downstairs, I think,” he said. “I’m gonna…make some tea, I think. Do you want any?”

“Yes, that might be nice,” said Aziraphale.

Aziraphale pulled his clothes on hurriedly. He didn’t bother with his tie, just pulled his trousers on and buttoned his shirt, tucking it in haphazardly and shrugging his waistcoat on on top of it, buttoning it on his way down the stairs, Crowley a few steps ahead of him.

“You know, if She did hear,” he said when they reached the bottom, “well, I just mean, if She heard what you said, I don’t think it makes a difference, our stopping.”

** _She nodded frantically. “He’s got a point!”_ **

Crowley turned to face him, though he couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I suppose you’re right,” he said.

“But it’s probably for the best, in case She shows up,” Aziraphale concluded, iterating exactly what Crowley had been thinking but not saying himself.

“Right,” Crowley said.

In the kitchen, they sat in a silence so complete and almost unbroken, save for the sounds of the stools scraping across the linoleum floors as they moved out from under the island bar, the two of them clearing their throats awkwardly every now and again, and then the sound of the tea kettle on the stove.

Crowley poured them each a cup and sat across from Aziraphale, looking down at the steam pouring off the surface and the liquid as it slowly darkened. He couldn’t bring himself to actually drink it, but he could certainly stare into it in a way he hoped appeared brooding rather than terrified.

“Where are your glasses?” Aziraphale asked, breaking the silence.

“What’s that?” Crowley asked.

“Your glasses,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to his eyes. “Where have you left them?”

** _“They’re on the sofa. You took them off when you got in.”_ **

“_Shit_,” Crowley hissed, sitting up and looking about him as though he expected to find them there in the kitchen. “I…I don’t remember.”

“Either the bedroom or the office, wouldn’t you think?” Aziraphale offered.

** _“The living room!” She cried._ **

“You’re probably right,” he said.

“Do you want to go and find them?”

“I don’t see what difference it would make,” Crowley said, lifting the string on the teabag in his cup and bouncing it a few times, mixing the tea more completely.

“Hm,” Aziraphale nodded, and looked down into his own cup.

Normally he took his tea with milk and extra sugar. And normally he would have quite enjoyed sitting alone with Crowley in the kitchen, drinking tea and talking about anything and everything that came up. Now, though, he couldn’t bring himself to even lift the teacup off the counter.

** _“I’m going to have to intervene, aren’t I?” She asked no one in particular._ **

Crowley cleared his throat, peering nervously across the kitchen island at Aziraphale out the corner of his eyes.

** _“Yep,” She said decidedly, and set Her pen down. “I am. Great. Okay." She stood. "'Let’s see,’ said the blind man…”_ **

** _She stared at the floor for a moment, thinking, then suddenly jolted upright again and snapped Her fingers._ **

_ **“There! That should set things in motion.”** _

“So,” Crowley said, “how are you feeling?”

Aziraphale blinked a few times. “Er…alright, I guess, considering.”

“Just now, or…?”

“The whole day,” Aziraphale said.

“Of course. Strange day.”

“Strange,” Aziraphale nodded in agreement.

“You think She, erm...?” Crowley said, gesturing upward with his eyes.

“I think we’re safe,” said Aziraphale. “If She was coming, She’d have already been here by now.”

_ **"Exactly."** _

Crowley laughed quietly, relieved. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“We could go back upstairs,” Aziraphale said, “if you’d like.”

“Hm,” Crowley intoned, smiling. “In a minute.”

“Not now?” Aziraphale asked, his brow furrowed.

Crowley got up and came around the counter to stand beside Aziraphale’s barstool. He took his hand in his own and swung it gently between them, looking at their hands together before pulling Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.

“Maybe we should just go a little slower, eh? Let’s not jump right back in where we were just yet,” Crowley said softly. “We still don’t know if She might show up.”

“What have you got in mind then?” Aziraphale asked, turning around in the stool to face him.

Crowley came to stand between his legs, and with his free hand stroked Aziraphale’s cheek. “Just this,” he said, and he kissed him tenderly, wrapping his arms around his neck.

** _“That works just fine,” God said, smiling, and with a snap of Her fingers, She dropped the connection._ **


End file.
